My Friend, the Wind
by raven2547
Summary: Jack had been alone as long as he could remember... well, that wasn't true. He'd always had the Wind.


**been lurking in fandom for a little while, decided to write this thing that made me curious. It's been a couple of months since I wrote, so forgive me for shortness or badness as well as spelling errors because i don't have a beta.**

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He woke up alone.

His name, that was all he knew. Who just wakes up as themselves, with nothing _but_ that information available to them? Jack Frost didn't even sound like a real person, sometimes. Especially when everyone around you believed that you weren't, in fact, real. Or a person, for that matter.

There was nobody around him-but a whole village to the east of him. 'Why didn't one of them come help him when he lay out there for whoever knows how long?' He used to think. Then he remembered that... nobody could see him. Of course no one would come, he was transparent.

But whenever he thought about his first night 'alive', he always remembered waking up and immediately looking at the moon, learning his name, and then being picked up by the wind. The wind was his constant companion, starting in his first few minutes of life and had never left him. Wind picked up poor little Jack Frost and carried him to the village-a place where he actually hated going as soon as he figured they couldn't see him, but that's semantics. How would he have known he wasn't visible to people if the wind hadn't enlightened him? His longest and most honest friend was the wind!

Wind and Jack. Jack and Wind. It just sounded right. After all, wasn't it the wind that always carried snow in great flurries and shaped the glorious drifts that kids sailed over in their sleds? Was it not the wind that blew storm fronts to and fro across the continents, bringing the joy of pure winter wherever it blew?

Of course! And winter was Jack's _definition!_ He was the very spirit of winter itself. Therefore, the wind and Jack Frost were meant to be the best of friends. When the high and mighty 'Guardians of Childhood' spurned him and cast him off as a wayward sprite, the wind was there to take him to the pleasure of Siberia, where the snow was as thick as a wall and the drifts as tall as him... and so deliciously cold. The icy chill the wind brought across his face was pleasant, soothing, almost. Comforting was the word. The wind comforted him when, one by one, the Guardians told him that they simply did not have time-or in Bunny's case, hated him. (and oh, words hurt, Aster.)

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One memorable occasion left Jack all alone on his pond (frozen solid, clear to the bottom. No child would drown on his watch... but he only made this lake completely frozen, he didn't know why it worried him so much, this pond). Nicholas St. North and his little buddy the Bunny were stomping around, making ugly footprints on his pristine, freshly fallen snow. Burgess's first snowfall of the year, in fact. It had been nearly March, but they still hadn't had any snow that year because he'd been kind of busy with Ontario's snowfall and ice to sleet ratio.

Apparently, he'd made it snow terribly hard (which was ridiculous, eight inches was him going easy on the weather) on the most sacred of days-Easter Sunday. The bunny was hopping around all agitated, shouting about respect and how the 'nasty little snowflake sprite had no right' to _do his job_. He brought snow. Didn't the mangy rabbit know that? Santa had been brought along by Aster to be a moderator, probably of his own suggestion. They had been marching through the forrest looking for Jack and making a hell of a lot of noise for the early morning. The town had expanded, but still not a lot of residents lived even close to the edge of the pine trees.

Harsh words were exchanged that day. Santa did nothing to help or even stop the hateful Bunnymund from insulting and belittling the Spirit of Winter, constantly pointing out how he didn't have a 'day' and rubbing it in that nobody could see him. The first point didn't make sense to Jack because neither the Tooth Fairy nor the Sandman had specific days like North and Aster.

When it got the point that Jack actually shed a frozen, glass-like tear that hit the snow with a soft 'thump'-soft enough that only an animal (like the Rabbit) could hear it. That tear made him stop for a second and take a second look at the kid he was screaming at and realize that, yeah. It was a kid. Frost was clearly not any older than his mid-teens. Fourteen or fifteen at the most, judging by his size and the sheer amount of crushed innocence in his eyes.

He was about to start backtracking and slowly let the kid off the hook when the wind started to pick up, "Listen kid," he began gruffly, a notch softer and a tad gentler than his shouting earlier. He never got to finish.

The wind violently picked up, throwing snow flurries and small flakes of ice towards the noble guardian pair. Their feet nearly left the ground, the violent tempest sweeping the area around them and howling like a wolf and screaming in the distance. The little, pale, white haired, and innocent spirit wasn't as lucky as them to be left on the ground, though. Jack had been swept into the air and up into the clouds before either of them had even blinked.

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The wind protected Jack. His only friend when everyone around him hated him for covering the pitiful, dead creatures littering the ground with his beautiful snow and ice was the wind. Nothing would change the fact that, even though nearly all the guardians used the wind for something or other, Wind only really _obeyed_ Jack. Now all the Guardians loved him, or they said they did at least, but they actually weren't very close... you didn't just become friends with the kid nobody liked for three centuries overnight. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say.

So Jack Frost still stayed with his friend, the wind, whenever he had a spare moment. He still took time to float lazily continent to continent with the wind brushing away any wayward thought that bothered him. Floating along in a winter wonderland of his own creation, alone and watching children play in the landscapes he made, the gentle touches of his first and longest friend were what comforted him the most.

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**Thanks for reading. Drop me a review if you like :)**


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